


Worth It?

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Bottom Sam, Castration, Dark, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Murder, Oral Sex, Serial Killer Sam, Top Dean, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has something wrong with him, very, inherently wrong, and Dean's not sure if he should keep rationalizing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the March SPN Writing Challenge.   
> This fic got a little darker than I originally planned, so I tagged everything I could think of to be safe!

            Sam stumbled backwards as the body of the young man fell to the ground, blood oozing out from the stump where his head had previously been connected. Sam glanced to his right, where Dean was watching, his eyes round. “He got the blood in his mouth.” He said simply, shrugging before sheathing his machete and picking up the head, tossing it carelessly into the hole in the ground, where a pile of bodies had already been gathered by Dean.

He dragged the body next, scowling when he noticed Dean still hadn’t moved. “What?”

“You didn’t know? For sure if he did?”

“I was sure enough. Come on, let’s get these burned so I can go shower.” Sam shoved the body into the pile and grabbed the lighter fluid, spraying it liberally into the hole.

Dean finally stepped forward, striking his lighter and tossing it in. They both grimaced as the heat struck their faces, but remained still, making sure the bodies burnt. Sam leaned on Dean gently, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. He didn’t notice that his older brother tensed, eyeing the machete on Sam’s hip worriedly.

 

            “Sam…” Dean spoke softly when they entered the hotel room. “Wanna go out and get us some beers?” Sam asked before Dean could speak any further. “No, we need to talk.” Sam glanced over at him as he stripped his shirt off. “About what?”

“Tonight. That guy?”

“What about him?”

            Dean hesitated. He knew something was wrong with Sam, had known for a really long time… He’d just kept pushing it aside, rationalizing it. Dean wasn’t sure why, either, maybe it was because he knew he had problems too, or because he loved Sam more than no one else in the world. He couldn’t keep doing this though, he had to talk to Sam about it, understand his reasoning.

            “I…”

“Look, I’m gonna shower, can this wait until after?” Sam cut his brother off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go get us some dinner.” Sam nodded. He stepped forward, squeezing Dean’s forearm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

 

            When Dean returned with a bag of takeout and a six-pack, Sam was sitting at the table in the crappy motel room, clicking through pages on his laptop. “Hey, find something?”

“Nah, nothing out of the ordinary, well, moreso than normal. Looks like maybe a haunting out in Oregon, but that’s about it.”

            Dean nodded. “Alright…” He sat across from Sam and pulled the food out. “So, you said you wanted to talk.” Sam said, and Dean looked up.

“Right. Um…” Dean rose, putting the beer in the fridge. “Sam, you killing that guy today, it wasn’t the right thing to do. And the way you did it, it was just really cold.”

Dean turned to face Sam, opening his mouth to continue speaking. He jumped back, startled, when he was nearly chest to chest with his brother; he hadn’t even heard him get up.

Before Dean could continue with what he’d planned on saying, Sam grabbed his arms, pressing him to the wall and mashing their mouths together.

            His kiss tasted like copper and iron, burnt and raw at the same moment. Swollen lips, invasive tongue, it was everything Dean loved. His brother was pressing him tight to the wall of the motel room, his arms pinned straight out like a blasphemous Christ.

            Sam jerked back, inhaling a ragged breath. Dean’s eyes fluttered open, breathing quickly. They’d been playing with this new aspect of their relationship for a few months now, kissing, handjobs… They’d never taken it further, both drawing their own individual lines not to cross.

Regardless, Sam had never once initiated, not like this. Dean had begun to wonder if his little brother even enjoyed it, or just did it to please Dean.

“What was that for?” Dean asked when his vocal cords began to function again. Sam shrugged, slumping down onto the bed. “Distracting you.” He mumbled, picking at a loose string in the comforter.

“Distracting me? From what I was going to say?”

“I didn’t wanna hear it.”

“What’d you think I was gonna say? Tell you you’re disgusting? A freak?” Sam winced visibly at the final phrase. He scowled then, and met Dean’s gaze.

“Yeah. All of that.”

“Watching you kill that guy tonight? That was just wrong, Sam.” Sam’s jaw tensed a little. “I had to, Dean. He thought he got the vampire blood in his mouth, I—“

“Quit lying to me.” Dean stepped forward and sat next to Sam, his head hanging. “I’ve known for a while, Sammy… I guess… Part of me blamed myself, Dad… The way we were raised, what Yellow Eyes did to you. I’ve watched you turn into this… Thing since we were little kids. I guess I just got used to it.”

            “Used to it?”

Dean nodded. “I watched you kill a guy the first time when you turned eighteen. About two weeks before you left for Stanford. He was your first, wasn’t he?”

Sam looked over at Dean, who only smiled at his wide-eyed expression. “I know. Both ways. You two screwed, then you gutted him like a fish. Why do you think dad never mentioned the bloody clothes? The missing bedsheet? I took care of it for you.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re my baby brother. I’ve gotta keep you safe.”

“I’m a freak, Dean. I kill people for kicks.” Dean took a shaky breath, measuring his next words carefully. He loved Sam, but it was always a gamble… What if his rabid baby brother decided to bite the hand that fed him next?

            “You have reasons. For killing all of them, I’m sure. The guy, back when you were a kid… He was a dick, even I knew that. He made sure it hurt ‘cause you were a cute twink. This guy tonight, he coulda turned… You have reasons, whether they make sense to me or not. We are hunters.”

            Sam shot up from the bed, his expression confused. “How can you justify this?! I kill people, Dean! I’m a murderer!”

“We’re hunters. We kill people every day.”

“We kill monsters!”

“And a lot of them used to be people!” Dean shouted, rising and going toe to toe with Sam. “What we do is tough! I drink, you kill!”

            Sam snorted. “You really compare the two?”

“Sammy, I’ve taken care of you long enough to learn to, okay? You’d never kill someone innocent, I know that.” Dean reached out, touching Sam’s chest. “You still have a heart. You aren’t a monster. You’re just… Coping.”

            Dean’s thumb rubbed small circles against Sam’s chest as he spoke, trying to soothe Sam, bring him back to a sane level. Sam’s body relaxed in small increments, his breathing slowing to a normal pace. When Dean was satisfied he’d brought his brother back down, he leaned up, joining their mouths once more.

 

 

_It was a rare luxury that they got adjoining rooms, their father was off on a hunt. Dean had been relaxing in his room, reading up on the lore of werewolves, when he’d heard Sam whimpering in the next room. Concerned for his brother, he snuck to the door, listening for a moment before opening the door a crack._

_What he saw before him shocked the hell out of him. His baby brother was stretched out on the bed, facedown. His arms were above his head, bound the bedframe with a rope. A pair of red lace panties were pushed down his thighs, his knees under him to elevate his ass. A much older man was above Sam, rutting in and out of him like a dog in heat. Sam was moaning and whimpering into his own arm, his eyes wet with tears._

_Dean knew he should walk away, or burst in and knock that man’s teeth out, but he remained glued to the spot, not able to move or speak._

_After the man finished, he pulled out and slapped Sam’s ass. His hands made quick work of the knots and Sam rolled over, sliding his hands under the pillow. “Thank you.” He whispered, and the guy smirked. “No need to thank me… Any time you need it, you know where to find me.” The man leaned over, kissing Sam roughly._

_The flash of silver in the moonlight was the only movement on the bed. It happened so quickly that Dean wasn’t sure what he saw until he saw blood pouring over Sam’s chest. He’d slit the man’s throat. Sam shoved the bigger body off him and sat up, tossing the knife to the side and sliding his hands over his blood coated body. He moved them down, down, until he grasped his still present erection. It was then that Dean’s freeze cracked, and he backed up, his body retching._

 

            Sam pushed Dean onto the bed and stripped off his shirt, pulling Dean from his memories. Dean looked up at his little brother, breathing fast. “Sam, I—“

“Do you want this? Going this far?” Sam asked, his hands hesitating over his own belt.

“I have for a long time.”

Sam smiled at Dean’s reply, undoing the belt and tossing it to the floor. “You never said anything…”

“Because it’s wrong. I mean, you’re my baby brother.”

“Uh-huh… You can rationalize murder but not sex? Where the hell do you draw the line, man? I mean, I give you hand jobs all the time. We make out when you’re bored… So where’s the line?”

“Violating my brother’s body.”

            Sam scowled then. “So you don’t want this.”

Dean sat up, setting his hands on Sam’s hips. “I do, Sammy. It’s just… Difficult, okay? To rationalize this. With the killing, I can figure it out, put it together.”

“Well…” Sam’s hands went to Dean’s hair, fingers carding through it before tugging hard, twisting Dean’s head up to look at him. “You drink… I kill… We’ve already started down this path… Maybe us fucking is just the next rational step.”

“Nothing about what we do is rational.” Dean argued, his voice weak.

Sam growled and let go of his hair, shoving him back. “Make up your damn mind, Dean. Lemme know when you figure it out.” He stepped back, buttoning his jeans back up.

            Dean shot up and grabbed his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head. Instead of trying to voice his reply, he dropped to his knees, pushing Sam’s hands out of the way. He made quick work of the jeans, pushing them down around Sam’s ankles. The shorts came next, and before Sam could speak, Dean’s mouth was wrapped around his cock, sucking gently.

            Sam’s breath punched out of his chest as he watched the scene in front of him. Dean, especially like this, had been a fantasy of his for years, but he never thought it would happen… His fingers slipped through Dean’s short hair, tugging gently. A groan rose in his throat when Dean’s mouth slipped further down, his calloused hand wrapping around the part he couldn’t fit.

            Dean shut his eyes, trying to relax his throat. He wasn’t a fan of giving head, frankly he hated it, but this was Sam. He let his mind wander, the thumb of his free hand rubbing small circles against Sam’s hip.

 

 

            _The second time Dean saw his innocent little brother kill was shortly after he’d picked him up from Stanford. It was a simple case, a vengeful spirit. Sam had been uncomfortable from the start. The victims were all criminals, child molesters, who’d been staying in a halfway house where the haunting was happening. Though they got rid of the ghost (in the nick of time too, a man barely escaped death), Sam still seemed worried, looking over the victim’s files._

_When he told Dean he was going out to have a drink, Dean knew something was up. He followed Sam to the house, a knot forming in his stomach when Sam emerged with the man they’d just saved. He continued to follow the two down the street a few blocks, and into an empty alley, where he hid behind a nearby dumpster to observe._

_At first, it looked like a civil conversation, the man was laughing, and even Sam was smiling, but Dean saw the glint in his eyes. He’d seen that expression a few times before, and each time it gave him the worst sort of shudders._

_Sam grabbed the man’s arms when he went forward, pinning him easily against the alley wall. From where Dean was sitting, he could see Sam reach back, whispering something to the man as he withdrew a bowie knife from the holster on his hip. The man began to whimper, pleading for his life._

_Sam stepped back and the man went forward, thanking him. Before he gathered enough sense to run, Sam brought the blade up, ramming it deep in the side of the man’s chest. He stumbled backwards, falling off the knife and holding the wound._

_Sam grabbed him by the throat, turning them and pinning him to the ground. He undid the man’s jeans, slapping his fighting hands away. The man was trying to yell, but Sam’s blade had done its job, the man was choking on his own blood._

_To Dean’s surprise, Sam moved down, pulling the man’s sweats and boxers off. He grabbed the man’s dick and balls in one big hand, bringing the bloodied knife up and making a smooth swipe, effectively cutting off his manhood._

_He shoved the mess of bloodied flesh into the man’s mouth, covering his mouth and nose as he did. The man, already weak from blood loss, writhed under Sam’s grip._

_Dean slipped away when Sam began to wipe down the crime scene, concerned what would happen if Sam caught him peeking._

 

            The brothers lay under the sheet in one motel bed, legs and arms twisted together like a human pretzel. Sam was resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, snoring softly, but Dean couldn’t find sleep, as physically exhausted as he was.

            He continued to think about the murder tonight, the other murders over the years he’d witnessed, cleaned up after… The amount of times he’d saved Sam from prison time, rationalized the crimes in his head.

            Dean often wondered if Sam would ever get caught, slip up, and they’d both wind up in prison. It was that thought, plus the general concern he had for his little brother, that kept Dean rationalizing. But was it worth it?

            Dean looked at his baby brother, who he’d raised since they were both too little to understand what they’d become, sleeping peacefully in his arms. A reflection drew his gaze; a car’s passing headlights glinted off the knife sitting on the bedside stand. Was it really worth it?


End file.
